#starkiller base aftermath

[thestarwarslesbian]

It's Karma

Day 2 of MakeKyluxSuffer (@makekyluxsuffer) - Blood | Bruises | ‘You’re Hurting Me.’

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“Honey. Please stay awake.” Hux said shaking Kylo. The transport to get off the collapsing base was on the way. Kylo only had to hold on until the medics could get there. 

Kylo groaned as Hux applied pressure on his wound. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking up at his boyfriend. “You better be.” Hux joked. 

“No,” he said raising his hand to touch Hux’s check “It’s Kama.” 

“And why is it Kama?” Hux asked, he could hear the transport landing close by. “I killed him. I killed my dad. And then I went after the girl and...” 

“Excuse me General. You're going to have to move so we can get him on a stretcher.” Hux followed as Kylo was brought on board the transport and taken to the medical centre in the back.  

Hux sat in the seat, looking at his hands.  

He didn’t care for the planet blowing up behind him. 

All he could focus on was the blood on his hands. 

“General.” 

Hux looked at the doctor. “He’s going to need more medication when we get to the finalizer. But other than that he should be okay.” Hux nodded, unable to find words. “Are you okay sir? That’s quite a lot of blood.” Hux looked back down at his hands. 

“It’s not my blood.” 

[jinx-xxed]

Out in the Cold

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; This kind of AU is what most of my writings are based in, so I hope this is a good introduction! There will be more of these to come :) I hope you enjoy!

Part of Written in the Stars

Part 2

Summary; You are a pupil of the Force under Supreme Leader Snoke along with Kylo Ren. You hate him. He’s arrogant and cocky and has done nothing but make your life miserable. So what happens when you have to save his life?

Content; Aftermath of TFA, treating Kylo’s wounds, enemies to ???, Kylo’s a loser, reader taking things into their own hands, probably some medical malpractice, some Force connecting, reader also hates Hux

Wc; 3.9k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren,” Snoke’s voice manages to remain booming and intimidating even amongst the collapsing rubble. His projection leans back in the throne he’s sitting in, his gnarled face creased in contemplation. “It is time for you both to complete your training.”

“Right away, Supreme Leader,” you say, head bowing. His projection fizzles out not even a second later, leaving you alone to figure out how to complete the new task you’ve been given without losing your life in the process. The planet is imploding, and there’s only so much longer before the sun boiling beneath the surface breaks through and burns everything on it to mere ash in the atmosphere. It all went awry so quickly, it’s almost laughable. Starkiller Base—Hux’s little passion project—has been rendered a failure, destroyed by Resistance forces.

You tear through the halls of the base, the entire foundation shaking and crumbling around you. You stop by your office, which has already been mostly cleared out by members of your elite personal fleet—Fleet 74—and grab BB-12 who’d been waiting for you. He rolls obediently behind you as you rush out. People are in a frenzy, most trying desperately to get to transports and get the hell out, others trying to stick it through and finish whatever duty they’d been given by a higher up. You tell whoever you can to head to the hangars, to pile onto transports and evacuate, even if it’s hard to hear over the commotion. You click on the radio that’s attached to your shoulder. “Fleet 74—this is your captain speaking. I’ve been given a new assignment I have to complete before I can leave, so I can’t lead you out. Follow formation, follow Chief, and I’ll get back to you when I can.” You say, shoving past a panicked lieutenant.

“Heard, Captain. Stay safe.” Chief, your second in command, responds. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

You enter into hangar eight, and it can only be described as chaos. Stormtroopers and engineers and all kinds of different workers are running about, getting into whatever kind of ship they can while trying to maintain some kind of pathetic semblance of order. TIE fighters screech as they shoot into the burning atmosphere, orange and red and black blazing outside the hangar opening. Flames lick at the darkened sky, rising from the cracks in the planet that look as though they’ve been torn open by a gods hands. You can feel the planet dying beneath your feet, you can feel its desperate call to the universe as it burns and burns and burns, swallowing itself whole. You focus on your breathing to block it out.

You fly down the catwalk, down the steps leading to the main floor, searching for one of the smaller transports. Workers part for you, letting you take your pick, knowing you take priority when it comes to evacuations. In the eyes of the Order, they are lesser, meant to be your stepping stones—but you’ve never seen it that way. You’ve never cared much for the hierarchy despite your favorable position within it.

You clamber into the transport, immediately shutting the ramp when BB-12 is safely inside and connects himself into the ships’ systems. You haphazardly slide into the pilots seat, flipping switches and pressing buttons with a near panicked efficiency. “Gods damn all of this,” you mutter to yourself. Although from the look of the base, it seems the gods have already done a good job of damming it all to hell.

The ship roars to life, engines purring and controls feeling sturdy within your palms. You shoot from the hangar, leaving the caving infrastructure of Starkiller Base behind and entering into the thick pine woods surrounding the territory. That’s where Kylo Ren is supposed to be. He left the base when this all started, chasing after some fresh faced Jedi girl and the traitorous Stormtrooper that decided to accompany her. It creates a strange uneasiness in you, wondering what state Kylo must be in to result in him having to be retrieved. Snoke better not have me going out here just to find a dead body.

“BB-12, activate life-form scanners.” You call back to the droid. He gives a robotic chirp in response and the scanners activate on a monitor to your left, the screen a jumble of different information. A sensor runs across a circle, beeping idly as it comes up with nothing. You curse, also hearing the alarms to your right as the ship warns you of dangerous surface level conditions as if you don’t already know about the planet splitting apart beneath you. It looks far worse from your place in the sky, fractures akin to spiderwebs forming and spitting lava that swallows chunks of earth and trees. You can see the specks of straggling Resistance fighters amongst the stars as they flee, shooting into hyperdrive and getting far, far away from this place.

Trying to find one man in an expanse of trees and snow and darkness and fire is going to be near impossible like this, you realize. Relying on sensors that are jammed from broken frequencies and a crumbling planet isn’t going to work. You sigh to yourself, straightening your back in your chair, flicking on autopilot, closing your eyes, and steadying your breathing. The destruction around you steadily fades as you descend into the Force, becoming merely background noise as you search for one thing in particular. Your Force combs through the planet below, running through the trees like a wolf on a hunt, sniffing, searching, chasing.

There.

A heartbeat, erratic and struggling, fighting to be heard amongst the wailing of the dying planet. Your eyes shoot open and your hands fly back to the controls, snapping the ship out of autopilot as you jerk to the right. You begin descending when the heartbeat gets louder, pounding in your ears. You ease towards the ground, crushing a few trees in the process and kicking up clouds of snow. You order BB-12 to stay on board as you lower the ramp.

Snow sucks at your ankles, it settles into your hair and bites at the exposed skin of your face. You’re sure there’s ash mixed in there—you can smell it in your nose and taste it on your tongue when you breathe in. You hurry forward, eager to get this all over with. You notice the signs of a struggle on the trees as you pass, burning gashes within the bark, branches sliced clean in half and charred at the ends. Lightsabers. There’s blood on the ground as well, standing out starkly against the white of the snow. This battle had not been a good one for either side.

Up ahead, you see something abnormal. A black form, laying lifelessly in the snow—and that’s when it hits you. You’re overwhelmed by feelings of rage and disappointment and grief and fear and blatant pain, coming to you in waves of violent flashes of color and creating an uncomfortable tenseness in your muscles. It’s suffocating and purely Dark.

Kylo is collapsed on his back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, chest steadily rising and falling. At least this wasn’t a waste of my time, you think. You study him with disinterest, some sick sense of arrogance rising in you at the sight of him fallen on the ground, entirely at your mercy. You take note of the wounds littering his body, the most obvious being the massive gash that now lays across the left side of his face. It’s open and bleeding, smearing his skin red, running from his collarbone all the way up past his eyebrow, the edges cauterized and burnt black. A lightsaber wound, just like the ones within the trees. Part of you wishes you could’ve seen it, seen the slash that did this to him, see the girl that managed to do what you never could. You sense rather than see the other injuries on him, knowing he has quite a few and that they’re all causing him to lose an alarming amount of blood. He won’t last much longer out here, that’s for sure.

Leave him, a voice hisses from the darkest corners of your mind, the ones you try to ignore. You shake your head and ignore them now. Leaving him here would do nothing for you, your head would be on a spike just as soon as you abandon him.

You look past him to the cliff he’s laying on, the ground split perfectly through the middle, entirely isolating him from the way back to what was once the base. An ominous orange glow emits from the fissure, and you can feel the raging heat from where you stand. A tree crumbles right in front of you, the earth coming loose at another quiver of the planet and succumbing to the lava that swallows it in less than a second. That’ll be you soon if you don’t move it.

You grumble to yourself, glaring down at the man that’s the bane of your existence, and position your body. You grab at his arms first, the fabric of his robes wet with melted snow. You haul him up and sling him over your shoulders, nearly buckling under his weight. “Oh good fucking-“ you hiss, muscles bunching and straining. You knew he was dense but not that dense. You use the Force to help, taking off some of his brute weight and at least allowing yourself to walk.

You stumble back to the transport, your glower feeling like it’s permanently etched onto your face at this point. You move to the cargo hold where there’s a cushioned fold out table set into the wall. You gracelessly slide Kylo onto it, struggling for a second to get all his limbs in place and secure him in position. Without his weight on your back, you’re able to hurry to the pilot’s chair, the planet now rumbling more violently than it had before. Surveillance systems on the monitors are screaming at you, telling you to get the fuck out now. It doesn’t have to tell you twice. You prepare the hyperdrive, flying higher and higher into the sunless sky, the edges of it beginning to blur with bright blues and whites as you ascend into lightspeed. You’re shot far from the planet just as it finally gives in to the molten heat boiling in its core, a shockwave exploding from its center that rocks the ship and makes it beep in alarm.

You collapse in your seat, blowing a sigh out of your lips in relief. You scrub your hands over your face, the tips of your fingers cold from the snow. However, your relief isn’t allowed to last long as you hear movement behind you, turning the chair to see Kylo suddenly back in the world of the living, trying to get up and off the table. You can almost feel the way that each shift of his face or neck pulls unpleasantly at that gash, birthing a searing pain that’s so acute it’s nauseating.

“Stop-“ you say, getting up and out of the pilots chair, “stop moving. You’ll only make it worse.”

His eyes snap to you, only now noticing that you’re there, deep brown irises dark with a swirl of unpleasant emotions. His brows furrow, despite the way it pulls on the wound, as if he wants it to hurt more. Portions of his hair are plastered to his forehead and cheeks, both from melted snow and blood, his skin is clammy and pale, making him look entirely disheveled and nothing like the Commander he usually does. There’s a shame that’s rising in him, brewing like a storm. Shame that you’re seeing him like this, shame at the fact he lost—shame that’s going to quickly boil into anger. “Why are you here?” He demands, his voice low and holding a wild uneasiness. He’s vulnerable and he’s weak, two of the worst things to be when you’re in the First Order. It makes him as volatile and dangerous as an injured animal.

“I was ordered to retrieve you before you imploded with the planet.” You say roughly, immediately on the defensive. “We’ll be returning to the Finalizer and then moving to the Supremacy under Snoke’s command. He told me we had further training to complete.”

There’s a confusion that flashes across Kylo’s face, but it’s brief as you sense his consciousness shift drastically like an uneven scale, his body slumping against his will. His head smacks back against the cold metal wall, eyelids fluttering weakly, shallow breath passing desperately between parted lips. His left hand clutches at the cushions beneath him, though it’s an absent action—he doesn’t know what he’s holding on to, or why he’s doing it, only that if he doesn’t, he thinks he’ll lose his last anchor on whatever’s keeping him together. The adrenaline in his body has fully run out at this point, nothing left to keep the blood-loss and debilitating pain at bay, and now it’s hitting him at full force. You can only imagine the wave of nausea that’s probably rolling through him, creating an awful sinking feeling in the gut.

There’s panic that rises in you at the way his condition has worsened so quickly, and you hurry to dig through the deeper part of the cargo hold to pull out the standard issue first aid kit. “BB-12, open your storage port.” You snap, the droid detaching himself from the ship’s systems to follow your orders. A compartment in his front clicks open, revealing a small assortment of materials you keep hidden within your companion. You pull out a syringe, a can of ointment, and a bag of pills—all things you definitely shouldn’t have but stole anyway. “Send an alert to the Finalizer, an urgent order for medics at the ready on my return.”

BB-12 leaves you be to assess the situation before you: a gravely injured man that’s very possibly on the cusp of dying under your watch. There’s five injuries of note; the one on his face, a clean gash on his right shoulder, the jab of a saber on his left, the blaster shot in his side, and a cut along his left leg. You grit your teeth, channeling every bit of medical practice you’ve gotten from Jaharah—your fleet’s medic—and from the base training every officer receives. Keep your hands from shaking, focus on stopping the blood, clean the wound, do what you can. Don’t let him die. If he dies, it would definitely mean your own demise at the hands of Snoke, so there’s plenty weighing on you here to keep you focused.

You move for the syringe first, biting off the cap of the needle and going to move down the collar of his padded armor. In his agony-filled haze, he reaches his hand up and grasps at your wrist, his hold weak and weightless. His fingers are freezing, even beneath his gloves, a result of an onset of hypothermia. He mutters half-coherent phrases like don’t and leave me, but you ignore them and shake him off. You and him share a similarity in the way you’re both so vehemently against any sort of pain relief, whether it be as a result of training or some sort of masochism, you’re not sure. But you remember all those years back when you were all alone and dealing with your own gruesome wounds, trying so desperately to stave the blood, to keep it from hurting as badly as it did. You remember wishing for something, anything, to make the pain go away but never being given the relief. You’re sure he’s feeling the same now. So you stick the needle into the taut skin of his neck and shove two pills into his mouth, forcing him to swallow.

A low groan leaves him, his head slumping, fresh sweat beading along his hairline. “If you die on me I’ll be so fucking pissed with you.” You hiss, mostly to yourself since you doubt he can hear much of anything now anyway. He’s still with you, just barely, and you feel his anger rolling off him in waves. He probably wants nothing more than to throw you out of an air lock and into the cold vacuum of space. You move to focus on the wound that’s eaten into his side, too deep to have cauterized enough to stop the worst of the bleeding. You struggle to pull back the burnt layers of his uniform to see the injury, quickly resorting to just cutting it away with the scissors in the first aid kit. It’s bad, of course, with just the outer edges of the wound black, the rest a throbbing, oozing red. You grab the gauze and coat it in the ointment: a highly potent healing salve that’s meant to help with different kinds of system regeneration and pain relief—and a salve that’s nearly impossible to find or make nowadays, hence why you keep a secret stash. He better be grateful that I’m using what little I have on him.

You press the gauze to the wound, blood almost immediately soaking through and staining your palm. You add more and then put a wrap around it all to keep it in place. The others aren’t as bad, being simply surface level injuries from a lightsaber, so you instead focus on the awful wound on his face. You haven’t seen a wound this horrid on someone else in a good few years. You take your clean hand and place it against the top of his head, using it as a sort of direction control, tilting his head back. He keeps silent, the only evidence of his discomfort being the stuttering of his breath and the twitch of his good eye.

The sedatives and pain relievers have kicked in by now, evident from the slight release of tension in his shoulders, how he’s not trying to fight you despite him regaining consciousness, and the way his suffering is no longer suffocating the Force around you. You begin to clean around the wound, your faces so close together it’d be considered invasive in any other circumstance. The space is silent except for the sound of your mixed breathing, the smell of blood and burnt flesh assaulting your nose with each inhale.

You try to be gentle with your work, but pulls on the gash are inevitable, and you see his hands clench out of the corner of your eye each time. There’s also the occasional flicker of the lights as his Force shoots out from him since he’s unable to keep control on it in this state, and so it’s taking his anger and pain out on the things around him, thankfully avoiding you in the process. You move down his face, down his neck, and to his shoulder where you have to cut away more of his uniform. The wound doesn’t get any better until it finally cuts off just below his collarbone, and it gives you a feeling of relief, like a light at the end of a tunnel. You clean as much of the blood as you can, then layer on ointment and gauze. You gather a general sense of his condition with your Force, digging deeper than the surface which is now unbelievably easy with him in a weakened state, unable to put up as many walls against your prodding. The ones he does have up are weak and simple to bring down. You almost feel bad… almost. The salve is doing it’s work, trying so desperately to start the regeneration process in a desolate environment, but it’s doing a good job of easing his pain and bringing him steadily away from death’s doorstep. You begin to clean the remaining injuries until there’s urgent beeping at the control panel, drawing your attention.

You huff, straightening yourself. Kylo’s stable enough to where you could leave him to see whatever’s causing the disturbance, but it still makes you uneasy. You unclip your cloak, rolling it into an odd shape and putting it at one end of the table. You then ease him onto his back, idly feeling the warmth of his body beneath the layers, his head lying against your cloak. “Rest,” you order, “we’ll be back to the main ship soon, so you can get proper medical attention.”

His dark eyes watch you as you move to leave, his face drawn into a tired neutrality. “You did a good job.” His words are quiet, weak, but they make you stop regardless. There’s something else he wanted to say that he kept to himself, something he’s quickly hid away so you can’t access it. You feel some mixed emotions with a lingering sense of gratitude he’s trying to beat down, creating a weird feeling of embarrassment in him.

You don’t look at him, but the slight rise of your shoulders is enough. You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

You enter the cockpit—the beeping having not stopped—and slump into the chair. The blood staining your hands smears across the control panel as you mess with it, trying to receive whatever message is trying to come in. The radio communicator buzzes to life. “There you are, finally.” Hux. “I was beginning to wonder if your transport was an empty carrier.”

The muscles in your jaw tense automatically, words bitten through your teeth. “Do you have something important to say, Hux?”

“Did you manage to retrieve Commander Ren?” He asks, annoying voice made more annoying by the crackling of the comms.

A small growl builds at the base of your throat at his tone, like he doubted you were going to be able to succeed. There’s a reason the task was entrusted to you and not him, and it’d do him good to remember that. “Yes, I did. We almost didn’t make it before your little project ate itself alive. Really great job, by the way.” You know that has the general seething, you can practically see the way his nostrils would flare and his eyes widen in your mind. Starkiller has become both the height and ultimate failure of his career, and you’re just digging bloody fingers into his open wound. “Did the Fleet members on the base make it back?”

Now it’s Hux’s turn to bite his words. “No need to worry, General, all your friends made it back in one piece. I would suggest you hurry back to the Finalizer, there’s much to be done.” And then he’s gone, the communicator clicking off.

“Stupid bastard.” You spit.

You glance back at Kylo, a black mass laying on a fold-out table far too small for someone his size, his eyes closed. It makes another spike of panic spear through your chest, wondering if he died when you turned your back for just a moment, but a brief reach with the Force has you relaxing. He’s just fine—well, as fine as he can be in a state like that: covered in gauze, sedated to hell, bleeding, trying not to aggravate the wounds by moving. You study him for a second longer before turning back to the control panel, the Finalizer coming into frame along the upper edge of the glass paneling of the viewport. There’s a sense of foreboding that comes along with the appearance of the massive flagship, one that has you steeling yourself and sitting up a little straighter.

It seems one chapter has just ended and another one is just beginning.

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Your WIP Arkanis ? 🤗

Well, you and @true--north both asked!

Arkanis, aka "The Imperial Basterds" (not a typo, a reference!) is a fanfic for Star Wars Sequels. It is also the longest text I have ever written - it has 161 982 words. Well, "The Pirate of the Southern Isles" is catching up fast with 142 318...

Technically, it is Kylux (Kylo Ren & General Hux), but not really, since there is no actual romantic nor sexual relationship between them. They are just working together trying not to blow up their cover.

The premise is: Kylo managed to piss off Hux one time too many and Hux has totally quitted on his job. Like, totally, he grabbed a bag and bugged out of the nearly-finished Starkiller base. Kylo - since nothing works without Hux - was tasked by Supreme Leader Snoke with finding him, apologizing and bringing him back ASAP.

In the meantime, Hux, who never took a vacation in his life, figured out what he want to do with all this time in his hands. He decided to finally solve the mystery that was with him since the day he was born. So he flew to his home planet, Arkanis, to find the mother he has never met.

And the first thing he encountered was a murder search, because apparently his hometown was being terrorized by a serial killer, commiting really gruesome crimes. He walked straight into one of the murder scenes. And met a very eager, soon-to-be-a-cop (but would be much better off as a private detective) woman named Lizzie, who thinks she is able to solve that case better than an actual police. Of course, he cannot tell her who he is, because the new war hasn't started yet, so he introduces himself as a history student, researching for his project about old Imperial academies.

Kylo tags along after a few days and they are both crashing on Lizzie's and her mother's couch, because Hux made it clear that he really wants to:

A) find someone,

B) find the murderer, because the police chief managed to irritate the shit out of him already.

And he refuses to go back without those objectives completed, no matter how much Kylo threatens him.

There are many reflection about the aftermath of the war - not only the galactic war, but a civil war - when two enemies have to live together again as neighbours, despite fighting on the different sides before.

Unfortunately, this WIP is on hiatus since 2021 I think. It is even sadder that it was like 2/3 done...

[monocytogenes]

Fic authors self-rec

Tagged by @theluckywizard to rec five of my favorite fics I've written!

All the Times We've Said Goodbye

[T, SWTOR, Male Imperial Agent/Shara Jenn]

This is my first (and currently only) multichapter on Ao3, and is essentially a reimagining of the agent-specific arc in Shadow of Revan as an undercover heist. The former Cipher Nine gets called in for one last job--rescuing Shara, who he sort of kind of definitely still has feelings for, despite his attempts to make a clean break from the Empire.

If you like Cold War spy dramas, British snark, and that 'I'll take care of you'/'It's rotten work'/'Not for me, not if it's you' trope, then this'll be your cup of tea!

The Triumph of Old and New Friends

[T, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Gen]

This was a gift piece I wrote for someone on the DAFF server that's set pre-Inquisition and entirely consists of setting-native OCs. It's a thriller set at a fancy Orlesian party that I've been told has Agatha Christie vibes! Two bards know an assassin's afoot, and have to figure out his target in time to prevent a murder. Lots of character work and some exciting action in here, and I had a ton of fun drawing on canon worldbuilding and 17th century French culture.

The Incarnation of Failure

[T, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Gen]

Out of all the stuff I wrote in the halcyon days after TFA's release, this piece is the nearest to my heart. It's an exploration of survivor's guilt, centered around Hux in the aftermath of Starkiller base's destruction: how does one cope in the wake of a tragedy, when reminders of your hand in it are everywhere? Dying is easy, living is harder.

Better to be Wrecked

[M, SWTOR, Female Sith Warrior/Malavai Quinn]

Ah, Quinn. I wasn't spoiled for the twist in the warrior story, and it hit me like a truck, so I had to write about it. This piece examines Quinn's psyche around the theme of suicidality, beginning with his demotion and ending with the Quinncident. Better to be wrecked, if he couldn't be loved.

The Most Egregious Abuse

[M, SWTOR, a little bit of Male Imperial Agent/Shara Jenn but mostly Gen]

My take on the agent story Chapter 2 denouement! This one-shot's got it all--calculated deception, violent murder, resigning one's job in protest, and a more lighthearted interlude where two young enlisteds have to deal with a high-off-his-head, grievously injured Cipher agent showing up at their gate. I've joked that literally not a single person in this fic is having a good time, and it's very true--hurt, no comfort all the way.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 1): General Bracket Match 20

Dec Hansen | Identity: gay | Media: Join the Resistance

Dec Hansen is a main character in the aborted middle grade novel series following a squad of 14 year olds who joined the Resistance. He was born on the isolated swamp planet of Ques. An only child, his mother built him a droid named AG-90 to act as his brother. When he was young, he ran away from home because of “something that made him different”, before eventually crawling back to his mother and telling her about it, where it turned out his community was actually accepting. Ben Blacker, one of the authors confirmed this was about him being gay. Which feels like meta-commentary about representation. Ques wasn’t homophobic, but because Dec had never heard of same gender attraction he felt isolated. 

With the Resistance, Dec was quite the trouble marker, in part because command didn’t accept AG as his brother and let him train as a pilot. He quickly became friends with the main protagonist of the series, Mattis. After his shenanigans caused a power outage on the base, J-Squadron was sent to the thought to be abandoned planet Vodran to scavenge. Dec was separated from most of the Squad and ended up on the planet's moon, where Hadra the Hutt, the planet’s old ruler, was living in exile. They bonded over their mental health problems and feeling different from their community, which convinced Hadra to help liberate his friends from the First Order prison on the planet. With J-Squadron reunited, they traveled to Starkiller Base to save Jo from his First Order parents. They managed to escape right as Starkiller Base was being destroyed and returned to D’Qar right before the evacuation. They were presumably sent on a special mission shortly after, like the many Resistance characters who didn’t appear in TLJ. Unfortunately the failure of TROS means it will be a long time before his series is finished.

Conder Kyl | Identity: mlm | Media: Aftermath trilogy

Conder Kyl was a New Republic slicer employed by New Republic intelligence. Between the first two books of the Aftermath trilogy, he began a relationship with Sinjir Rath Velus (the first queer character in the New EU), a member of an Imperial war criminal capture squad. However, due to Sinjir’s alcoholism and hatred of vulnerability from being part of the ISB, their relationship was strained. Believing himself to be an unworthy partner, Sinjir broke up with Conder. However, Sinjir latter approached Conder and begged for his help to help work through all the politicking in the Senate against sending New Republic forces to Jakku. In the process, Conder was captured, and after Sinjir rescued him the two reconciled and got back together. Conder later got the chance to save Sinjir’s life in the process of foiling an assassination attempt against Mon Mothma. After the Battle of Jakku, he married Sinjir. His most recent appearance was a cameo in the novel Last Shot, where he is the chief of cyberware in the New Republic’s Digital Warfare Department.

As he is a supporting character, he doesn’t get any PoV chapters. Despite being a very skilled slicer, he is very straightforward and simply good. Despite Sinjir’s own self-esteem problems, he didn’t mistrust Sinjir for being an ex-Imperial. All the conflict in the relationship came from Sinjir’s own mental health problems. 

Art by @cinno on tumblr

[fantastic-nonsense]

#yes Finn got screwed #but JJ put pieces on the board because he HAD to have that cliffhanger of an ending #TLJ is forced to take place the SAME DAY as TFA #I have a lot of thought on this subject#(I liked TFA and TLJ) (TROS could have been made better) (@apathyneverlandedonthemoon)

just saw these tags and wanted to make a quick response. No one "forced" TLJ to start less than 3 days after TFA ended. TFA ends with the following post-movie status quo:

Rey training with Luke on Ahch-To for an indeterminate amount of time

Finn in a coma after being gravely wounded by Kylo

Kylo being picked up by Snoke and Hux to "finish his training" after fully committing to the Dark Side via killing Han

The Resistance (led by Leia and Poe) having scored a meaningful but costly blow against the First Order's ability to oppress and kill people

The First Order having lost their planet-killing weapon and quite a lot of their forces

a vacuum of political power due to the combined blows of "the New Republic's capitol planet got blown up" and "The First Order does not have the resources to restore the Empire due to the aforementioned successful attack on Starkiller Base"

None of that necessitated Rian writing a story that picked up 2 days later. In fact, Rian deciding to start TLJ less than 2 days after TFA ended is the root of many of TLJ's problems! He didn't have to do that at all!

It went against Star Wars tradition (it's the only movie that doesn't have at minimum a one year timegap between them), was utterly illogical (How does "The First Order reign!" less than 3 days after Starkiller got blown up? how does the First Order have enough resources to come after the Resistance less than 72 hours after they were soundly defeated at Starkiller? Why is Snoke's priority to "finish Kylo's training" at the end of TFA and it suddenly doesn't matter at all in TLJ? Why does Rey entertain the "temptation" of Kylo less than a week after being kidnapped/tortured by him and then watching him kill Han?), and directly hurts the narrative direction of the plot!

Kylo's potential redemption holds more weight if he's spent some time fully committed to the Dark Side. Rey and Luke's conflict feels more real if they have an actual relationship with each other. Rey being called "The Last Jedi" would make more sense if she'd had more than 2.5 lessons of Jedi training over a span of a week. The First Order's sudden inexplicable ability to track people through hyperspace 3 days after that wasn't an available option to track down BB-8 makes more sense if they spent time after Starkiller developing it. The lack of support the Resistance recieves from their supposed allies is more understandable if the political and financial vacuum left by the New Republic's destruction has made them a true bootstrap effort relying on faith rather than knowledge. It makes far more sense for Kylo to kill his master and take his place, setting him up as IX's "Big Bad" villain, if he has actually finished his training and considers himeslf to have 'outgrown' Snoke. I could go on.

The timeframe for TLJ had absolutely nothing to do with anything J.J. Abrams left for Rian in TFA and everything to do with creative decisions Rian purposefully and deliberately made of his own accord.

The Force Awakens was no more a cliffhanger than Empire Strikes Back was when it left us with Han captured, frozen in carbonite, and on his way to Jabba as Luke, Leia, and Lando planned to rescue him. It was no more a cliffhanger than The Phantom Menace was when it left off with Anakin as a brand-new padawan to Obi-Wan while the threat of the Sith loomed in the background. It was no more a cliffhanger than Revenge of the Sith was when it ended with Obi-Wan delivering Luke to Owen and Beru as the Empire rose and the Jedi who survived Order 66 were being hunted down. And yet the movies following those cliffhangers always had a sizeable time gap between them.

Unresolved threads don't necessitate an immediate aftermath follow-up, nor do they need a wholly illogical immediate follow-up that directly contradicts the narrative threads the previous story left off on. Rian chose to do that, and it was to the detriment of the movie's story/characters and fucked over the overall plot of the trilogy to the point where TROS had few avenues to be a satisfying conclusion even if it hadn't been one of the messiest movies in existence.

reylos crying on twitter because Adam Driver explicitly confirmed that Bendemption was never originally in the plans for Kylo....this is justice for the last 8 years, actually

[deafblindshorty]

I keep thinking about what the fallout/consequences of Poe dying in TFA would have been.

-Leia would blame herself, of course. She should have let Black Squadron go with Poe after all in case the FO showed up and they did.

-If Kes is still alive at this point, he'd blame and resent Leia, then he'd die of despair.

-Snap would also blame himself. He would also be Poe's replacement at Takodana, Starkiller Base, D'Qar, Crait, Exegol... it'd make sense since he was in the Aftermath trilogy first. I'm not sure about the "Despair event horizon" that Poe had right before Lando showed up. Snap's wife dying might be a bit too harsh. So either that or Snap does die and Finn has that despair event horizon moment (which would be even more similar to Captain America's DEE in Endgame).

-As for Kaz... well, that's kind of like a "mentor occupational hazard" without actually being one. Would Poe still be the one to recruit Kaz, or would it be either Snap or Leia herself? And his line "Our last mission together can't be our last mission ever!" would be harsher in hindsight. As for him finding out...he'd find out from Norath and Hugh. I suppose it would go something like this:

Hugh: Poe seemed like a good guy. I wish I could have met him.

Kaz: What do you mean?

Hugh: (Looks awkwardly at Norath) You didn't tell him?

Norath: I thought he knew.

Kaz: Knew what?

Norath: Kaz...Poe is gone. Like gone-gone.

Kaz: What...? How?

Norath: He died on Jakku after escaping from the First Order.

Kaz would also blame himself, because he was the last person to see him alive. He should have begged Poe to let him tag along. Poe wouldn't have let him, but still. Yeager and Neeku would also be saddened by the news.

-Terex would have a field day, but he would also be slightly saddened at the loss of a formidable foe.

-For real life meta... well, I don't know, actually. Would Poe's parents be introduced? Would Shattered Empire, Empire Ascendant, and ROTJ The Rebellion 1 exist? Would the Poe Dameron comics and comics that took place before TFA that featured Poe, and Poe's story in Before the Awakening exist? Would Poe Dameron: Flight Log exist? Or would it be Poe Dameron's Final Flight Log? That'd be slightly depressing.

[swiftreylo0402]

This makes me so sad just looking at it. 

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Echoes of the Heart Masterlist

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: This all spawned from a Writer Wednesday Prompt and it turned into a full blown fic! I can’t stop basically…

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, mention of childhood trauma, mention of abuse, force use, expect other Star Wars characters to make an appearance.

Summary: Armitage Hux goes back to Arkanis to marry a woman who’s family needs the stability of his name to stay in Arkanis High Society. What he doesn’t account for is them falling in love and her coming to live on the Finalizer. Immediately she grabs the attention of Kylo Ren but it isn’t until the destruction of Starkiller that tensions begin to run high. After the defeat on Crait the First Order show the Galaxy they are unstoppable and Hux finally admits his true feelings for his wife. But Kylo has other plans, ripping the marriage apart at the seams and sending Lady Hux back to Arkanis, where Resistance sympathisers have been making enough noise to grab the attention of the First Order. Poor Lady Hux gets pulled into battle of secrets and deceit but who will believe she didn’t know what she was doing and who will save her from a death sentence? Her husband? Or the Supreme Leader?

Part 1 Arkanis

Night before the wedding

Part 2 The Finalizer

Part 3 Dinner

Part 4 Coruscant

Part 5 Defection

Part 6 Starkiller Base NSFW 18+

Part 7 Destruction

Part 8 Aftermath

Part 9 A Dark Day

Part 10 Victory

Part 11 What Comes After NSFW 18+

Part 12 The Pilot

Part 13 Recovery NSFW 18+

Part 14 The Choice

Part 15 The Wedding NSFW 18+

Part 16 The Betrayal

Part 17 Devastation

Part 18 The Interrogation

Part 19 Grief

Part 20 Crash Landing

Part 21 The Last Battle

Epilogue

This fic is FINISHED.

[dalekofchaos]

Rey’s lack of motivation and stake in the Sequel Trilogy

I have a question to ask you. What are Rey’s motivations? What are her wants and goals and why is she even drawn to the conflict between The First Order and The Resistance?

Rey’s motivations in the Sequels.

Rey wants to find her parents.

Wants to bring back Luke Skywalker

Rey wants to find her place 

Wants Ben to return to the light

Has no real motivation to be on either side of the conflict, but chooses The Resistance anyway

Says she wants to kill Palpatine in cold blood, was close to giving in

Now she chose to fuck off to Tatooine and we see very little in her motivation to do....ANYTHING

Let’s compare Anakin and Luke’s motivations.

What are Anakin's motivations?

Wants to leave a life of slavery and come back and free his mother

Wants to become a Jedi and become a hero

Wants to protect Padme

Wants to save Obi-Wan

Wants to stop Dooku and end the war before it can begin

Wants to be a good master to Ahsoka

Wants to clear Ahsoka’s name

Wants to stop the war

Wants to save Padme and his children's lives at the cost of the Jedi and doing whatever it takes and becomes Darth Vader

What are Luke’s motivations?

Luke is a farm boy who dreams of leaving his mundane life.

Luke discovers that his father -unlike what his uncle told him, was a heroic Jedi Knight

Luke, is reluctant and refuses the ‘call to adventure’, but after the Empire murders his Aunt and Uncle, he decides to Join Obi-Wan on the quest.

Save the Princess

Luke is angered by Obi-Wan’s death at the hands of Darth Vader, and seeks retribution.

Destroy the Death Star and save the Rebellion

To be trained by Yoda

Save Han and Leia

Luke discovers his father, the heroic Jedi, is none other than Darth Vader. After years of training, he sets out to redeem his father and turn him back to the light.

After the redemption of his father and fall of the Empire, Luke goes on a journey to restore The Jedi Order

Compare Rey and Luke’s journeys in ANH and TFA. Rey wanders around and stuff is handed to her. Luke takes initiative and works for what he has. Let's compare ANH with TFA

Luke screws up on watching R2, then chooses to chase him down. He makes another mistake by spying on the Tusken Raiders instead of getting the hell out of dodge. This leads to him being knocked out, and rescued by Ben Kenobi.

Luke initiates the meeting with Ben Kenobi, and it happens because of his early bad decisions.

His aunt & uncle are killed, but thanks to his screw-up with R2 & the raiders, he and the droids are spared.

He chooses to follow Kenobi to Alderaan instead of staying on Tattooine.

He chooses to accept Kenobi's instruction in the ways of the Force, even though most people think it's a myth and a joke. Even though he's bad at it and doesn't seem to get any results at first.

He makes the decision that they're going to rescue Leia, potentially dooming their escape from the Death Star. This sets off a chain of events that leads to Kenobi's death.

Then he chooses to help fight the Death Star, even though he's not a member of the rebellion. He was offered a job with Han, and he could have ensured his safety by leaving with them. Instead he chose certain death.

Finally, he chooses to trust a literal voice in his head instead of the targeting computer.

Let's contrast that with Rey.

BB-8 runs into her. She tries to send him away, but relents and lets him follow her home.

She chooses not to sell him for food.

Finn wanders into camp on his own initiative.

The camp is attacked because BB-8 is there. The camp would have been attacked no matter what Rey did. The other scavenger was, I'm pretty sure, from the same camp. And if she'd sold him, BB-8 would also have still been in the camp.

She is forced to take the Millennium Falcon when the ship she wanted to use was blown up.

She chooses to go with Finn and bring BB-8 to the Rebellion Resistance.

She stumbles upon Luke's lightsaber, and runs away from it.

She accidentally runs into Kylo Ren while hiding in the forest.

He chooses to kidnap her because he senses something special about her.

After her first exposure to the Force, she learns how to use some of it, successfully, and escapes from Ren. And to her credit, escaping and trying the Force out is a choice she made, rather than something that passively happened to her.

Then she, um, is standing there when Han is killed.

She chooses to fight Kylo Ren, and beats him in her first lightsaber battle after closing her eyes and thinking about the Force.

She sort of chooses to go summon Luke back to civilization - I say sort of because it's not clear why she was picked to go over, say, Leia.

Luke makes mistakes, and he is an active participant in his story. Rey is just kind of there, most of the time. She doesn't make mistakes, but she doesn't really do much else.

Rey has no personal stake in this war or motivations and she’s supposed to be the main protagonist.

Rey has never left Jakku before TFA and she tells Han that ”she never knew so much green existed” when they go to Maz’s castle.

In other words Rey must have had very limited knowledge of the world outside of Jakku and all she has heard from it are stories.

Rey who barely knows anything about the rest of the galaxy, to the point that she didn’t even know that forests existed what exactly is her personal stake in the current galactic conflict?

In TFA we saw The New Republic’s capital systems blown up by Starkiller Base and we never saw a reaction from Rey. We do see Finn and Han’s reactions. Also worth noting about Rey is that if she was unconscious throughout her involuntary travel to the Starkiller Base she was never actually aware of the Starkiller Base until just before Han, Finn and Chewie started planting the explosions in order to sabotage it.

Luke, while he had no personal attachments to Aldeeran did actually get to see the horrible aftermaths of it’s destruction.

But Rey was barely affected by the destruction of the Capital systems. Most characters were not as affected as they should have been in my opinion but we didn’t even get to see her have an emotional reaction to it.

This was probably the greatest genocide in Star Wars history and our main heroine is unaffected by it? Finn has a reaction to it and he’s supposedly NOT the main protagonist?

Rey really has no reason to care about the state of the galaxy. She only seems to care if people she knows are in danger.

The fact that she is supposed to be our main hero of this trilogy when she has next to no personal stakes in the well-being of the rest of the galaxy feels wrong to me.

Finn actually has stakes in this conflict since the FO took his family and childhood away from him and Poe has stakes because he actually lives in the New Republic and doesn’t want it to be under FO’s rule. Yet neither Finn nor Poe are considered the main protagonist? But oh wait, I forgot we can’t have a black or Latino man be the leading protagonist in Star Wars

The more I think about it is Rey has no goals or agency as a protagonist. She’s just whatever the plot demands her to be. Rey doesn’t actively take the initiative and make decisions, and simply react to the world around her. There is never a reason given as to why she wants to be a Jedi. Sure, she’s heard the stories about them, but she doesn’t dream to be one like Anakin, and the writers are so obsessed over her parents that they never develop any other motivation besides that. She has to be strung along the story so she can take part in it, hence she is repeatedly chased and kidnapped throughout TFA to get her to the Resistance where she decides to find Luke because she has nowhere else to go. Part of the reason she doesn’t even train with Luke is because she has no reason to, as she’s just supposed to find him. Rey joins the fight simply in reaction to learning that Luke is responsible for Ben’s fall. She’s only ever a Jedi and a member of the Resistance out of necessity- she has no where left to go and has to fight in self defense- so they try hamfist in some motives that she needs to stop herself from becoming like Palpatine but there is no tension as it’s the final act. By the end of the trilogy it’s not even clear if the Jedi Order will return because Rey never seems to want to be one and we can only assume they will return for meta reasons- because the audience knows the ST is a copypasta of the OT.

What exactly was Rey’s motivation for getting involved in the Galactic conflict before TROS? Luke was told that his father was killed by Darth Vader and later his family gets murdered by the empire so he had personal stakes to get involved in the conflict.

Anakin was a Jedi and had lived in the Republic for ten years by the time of the Clone Wars begun so he had personal reasons to get involved in the conflict.

Rey meanwhile grew up so isolated of Jakku that she had no idea forests existed and she didn’t lose anything and the FO attacked her on Jakku. In fact she wanted to return to Jakku after she had dumped BB-8 with the Resistance. Her primary motivation in TFA was to reunite with her family but the movie never establish that her family’s absence was connected to the galactic conflict in any way.

That connection isn’t established until TROS so what was her motivation until than? The Death of Han? A guy she had known for two hours? Finn? A guy she also had maybe only knew for about two hours total by the time of their hug in TLJ? Also she seemed to have completely forgotten about Finn by the time she want on a quest to redeem the guy that has far as she should have known by that point was still in a coma with his spine permanently damaged because of Kylo.

Rey’s motivation seems to either be finding her family or her dealing with her existential crisis neither had much of a connection with the galactic conflict until TROS

[flowerstheatre]

I wrote a fic like that.

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476640"><strong>The Pull to the Light</strong></a> (1148 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_British_American_Girls"><strong>The_British_American_Girls</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/1<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Star%20Wars%20Sequel%20Trilogy">Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren<br />Characters: Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren<br />Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, Patricide, The Dark Side of the Force<br />Summary: <p>Kylo Ren deals with the emotional aftermath of the destruction of Starkiller Base and his own failure in his fight against the scavenger girl.</p>

I truly think TFA isn't kylux in action, but instead past kylux now forced to work together when neither of them wants to. All the little reactions between them strongly point to that I think. Particularly how Kylo doesn't seem to like being maskless around Hux and then acts confident and in command around him when he does have that mask on.

It's really interesting. Especially with how kylo almost dissacociates when he's talking to Snoke and Hux just waltz's in behind him. He really really doesn't want Hux there, seeing him like that.

And how Hux looks at him almost loathing in some scenes. There's a hell of a lot of emotion coming off Hux towards Kylo, and I don't think Hux would be showing these emotions unless there was something in the past.

[babbushka]

To You

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader (Incredibly N*FW, 3.5k)

                                                         -------------

You’re sitting on his throne, when he returns.

It’s a flurry of motion; the doors flying open, the Knights entering in double filed lines, three and three all in sync, all in time, their heavy boots shaking the floor with all their might. None have as much might as your husband, your man, your Supreme Leader, and when he comes into the room, all the ambassadors drop like flies with respect, the hard smack of kneecaps echoing on the imported marble flooring. Their eyes are cast down, none daring to look at his masked face, none daring to raise their heads before he allows it.

The power of the dark side flows through him so strongly that it’s palpable, it’s thick in the air, crackling and snapping around him. Your breath hitches in your chest at the way you can feel it; the way it makes the hair on your arms and back of your neck stand up, the way it casts goosebumps all across your flesh, the way it makes your stomach flip. You have no Force powers of your own, have no claim to the universe other than the ring that lives on your finger, have no ability to bend time and space other than through his hand.

But his hand is your hand, and the bond you share is so strong that you may as well command the galaxy through it, may as well manipulate it to your every whim the way that he does. It is a testament to his strength, to his power, to his loyalty, that you can feel it. The dark side.

 You had been in the middle of negotiations, when he returns.

 In the wake of his departure to scour the farthest corners of the galaxy, rule was always left to you. Your diplomacy was a thing which Kylo envied. He had none of his own, not really. After all, why did he need any when he had you? There had been an issue with kyber crystals, locating them now that Ilum was gone, had been destroyed in the aftermath of Starkiller Base’s explosion. You had been notified of a new planet which technically was neither Resistance nor Order, that held the second largest depository of kyber crystals in the galaxy – and you wanted it.

So, moments before Kylo and his Knights of Ren had come storming home, thundering back, you had been seated atop his throne, wearing robes of the Order’s colors, deep velvet blacks and rich silk reds, surrounded by the praetorian guards who had sworn their lives to defend you, and the ambassadors of the planet which you so desperately sought to annex.

But now Kylo is home.

Now Kylo is home and is standing before you, flanked by all his Knights, all of them, each and every one of them covered in dried blood which crusts into the seams of their armor.

“Did you…?” You ask, looking into the place where you knew his eyes were, behind the visor.

You don’t want to say anything, not in the presence of all these people, all these subjects who wait with bowed heads in reverence of their Supreme Leader. They do not know of his plans, not like you do. It would not do, you think, to reveal them just yet.

Silently, one of the Knights, Ap’Lek, steps forward, his hand outstretched.

“Oh,” You breathe, when you recognize the pyramid in Ap’Lek’s hand, gaze going back and forth between Kylo’s mask and the wayfinder which he has successfully ripped from the hands of those ill-suited Vader cultists on Mustafar, “Oh my darling.”

You are overflowing with pride, and you slink off the throne, the long train of your robes slipping and trailing behind you as you step as close as possible to Kylo, as you splay your hands around his head, as you unclasp the latches of his mask. You want to see him, want to see his face, want to watch his pupils dilate when the praise washes over him, and he can read it in your mind that it’s coming, so he allows you to lift his armor away.

What you’re met with is something that has your knees nearly weak – for there is a glimmer of gold in his eyes, a hint of fire, of orange-red energy which flickers for a moment, yellow and fierce before the brown of his irises floods into yours. He swallows hard, desperate to hear you say it, and you brush a thumb over his bottom lip, lean in to rub your noses together sickly sweet, when you say,

“You did so well.”

Kylo is feral, when he returns.

 He is shaking, trembling, clenched and hungry. Raw power flows through him and at the praise it only flares, only sparks. You can feel the tingling already, can feel the throbbing between your legs as the muscles in his jaw work, and he knows what you are allowing, knows what you want.

By the stars he is going to give it to you.

“Leave us.” He says, snaps, orders. His voice is loud, booming, commanding.

He does not look away from you, not for even a fraction of a second, as the room clears out. Not a single soul is allowed to remain, is allowed to witness the acts of worship he will lavish upon you. Not the Knights, not the Guards, and certainly not the ambassadors.

They flee, and you let the mask drop from your fingers, let it clang on the marble floor, let it loll to one side as his gloved hands snake their way around your middle. He walks you backwards, back to the throne. It floats, suspended in the air by some sort of technology you care little about. He waves his hand and with unseen powers he brings the whole throne down so it rests firm and stable on the flooring, as he nudges you to sit back on it.

He trembles, veneration evident in the way he falls to his knees before you, the way his palms smooth up over your thighs. You scrape your nails along his scalp, his hair greasy and matted and caked in blood and old sweat, and he lets out a sound that’s far too much like a moan for you to ignore.

“Drink your wine.” You tell him, allow him, and he sucks in a deep breath, chest practically heaving as he parts your legs, pushes up your robes.

There’s so much fabric, so many layers, but underneath it all your body is bare to him, as you sit on his throne. He hikes up your robes and is met with the sight of your pussy wet and glistening, hair already soaked through, thighs already covered in a sheen of your slick. His arms coil around your thighs and pull you to the edge of the throne so he has an easier time maintaining his grip.

 Kylo is desperate, when he returns.

 His tongue is insistent, demanding, starving, as he licks into you, the hot wet slide of his proud muscle parting the folds of your cunt with a force that has you gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, has you moaning, has your back slouching deep against the blood red cushions of the throne.

“Yes, good – you’re so good.” You sigh with pleased approval, nipples hardening quickly against your clothing, head tipping back as you slip your legs over his shoulders so he might have better purchase.

He moans into you, eyes shut tight, looking like he’s in pain. With that first taste, he is in a near-frenzy. He’s too far gone from the rush of battle, the thrill of victory, too far beyond anything other than an aching dizzying need to consume and be consumed. He eats you out with passion, shifts closer and closer on his knees as he buries his nose against your clit, has you gasping for him with each press of it.

“Oh! Oh, please, please.” You egg him on, encourage him. He could weep, he’s so filled with adoration, devotion to you. You taste divine and he could cry if he weren’t so zeroed in on chasing the flavor of your sex, your pussy the first meal he’s had in days, the first morsel of sustenance he can engulf.

His hands shake when he needs to pull away just for a moment to breathe. Even still, he remains between your legs, cheek and chin shining with your juices. He looks at you, through his dark lashes, and there you can see the flicker and flare of yellow once again, suppliant. You lick your lips, and he nods, laves his tongue slowly, with respect and care and dedication, across the crease where your thigh parts from your cunt. He mouths and sucks the skin there, breathes in deeply as he begins to whimper, his own hips twitching.

You don’t need to see the tent in his trousers to know he is achingly hard.

“Go ahead – please, for me.” You pant, and he is so grateful that he lowers his mouth to your pussy once more, sucks hard at your clit once more, hollows out his cheeks and slurps up all your slick once more, before shoving his hand down his pants.

He moans into you again, louder this time, with the Force, this time, and a full body shudder explodes through your body. It’s literally the Force, literally time and space itself wrapping around you, traveling through you from his moans as he wraps a hand around his cock.

He strokes himself furiously, makes out with your cunt, shoves his face as deep as he can, his tongue long and thick and forcing its way against your walls, teeth dragging against your folds.

“Kylo!” You yelp, he’s too rough, too eager, too good. He’s so good, and you fist his hair hard, tug at his curls with a white-knuckle grip, and he only moans louder, which makes you cry out in turn.

You come on his tongue, knees squeezing his head, and the gush of your body could drown him. He raises himself up, nearly scrambles to rub the head of his cock through your pulsing throbbing folds. He moans, whimpers and whines as he does it, as he coats himself in your come. It is sick, the squelch of his cock rubbing up and down your pussy, and he tortures himself by only pushing in far enough that the tip has disappeared inside you.

He jerks himself off like this, you clenching and clamping down around his head as you come, thighs jumping wildly. His face is wet, from sweat or tears or your own slick, you can’t tell. His teeth chatter from where he’s hidden himself in the crook of your neck, nose pressed hard against your jugular and he comes moments after. You swear you can feel the way it splashes inside you, swear the lights flicker and flare with the intensity of it.

But he’s still hard, and you’re just as hungry as he is for a proper fucking, so with some great effort, you pull and push him deeper, closer, further into you, until he gets the hint.

 Kylo is filthy, when he returns.

 Your robes once pristine and wrinkle-free are now smeared with blood and dirt. He smells like ozone, like earth, like soil and ash as he pushes you up up up the throne, makes room for himself as well, room enough to plow into you. The force crackles and thrums around you, and soon the entire throne, the entire unit is tipping backwards.

Your hands fly out to cling to Kylo in a mild panic, unsure and unaware of what’s happening, but he reassures you with a dizzying kiss. Like this, gravity pulls you down enough that you are reclining, and Kylo is sinking deeper and deeper into you. Like this, he can fuck you, really fuck you.

Your hands cup his cheeks, smear away the dirt and death that has stuck there. He was successful, and you are so in love with him, so proud of him, that no amount of grime could deter you. His chest heaves and you know what he wants when a hand of his own closes into a fist and opens, again and again and again.

“Can I see?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

You smile warmly, chest blooming with pride, that he’s coming back enough to speak, his first orgasm having taken off some of the edge. Your hands abandon his face to obey his request as you undo the ties and clasps of your robes, as you reveal your tits to him.

He immediately latches himself to your nipple, immediately gropes and bites at your breasts. The bruises which he had once left you as a parting gift before his mission were now faded away to nothing, and the sight thrills him because it means he has opportunity to purple your flesh with new marks of worship.

“Kylo, I can’t take it anymore, please,” You beg when the sucking and biting become too much, when his hips have still not yet thrusted against you.

He has held himself still inside you this little while, and it’s driving you crazy. He lets out a breath against you, and it trembles through you, chills you, because you can feel the power in it.

“Please what?” He asks, just wanting to hear you say it, wanting to hear those words.

“Fuck me, Kylo.” You lick your lips, clenching around his cock, “Make me scream, make the whole galaxy hear me scream your name.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

 He is starving, when he returns.

 You’re impressed with how quickly his clothes fall away, how quickly your clothes slip off your shoulders. The robes which bore his crest, his symbol, are being literally sliced into thin ribbons from the Force. They slither and slide away, all except one long strip which binds itself around your wrists, pulls them up up up so your body is taut, your tits sticking out, back arched into his embrace.

With your hands bound, he tears the gloves from his hands with those crooked teeth which you so adore, spits them across the throne room. His hands brand you when they clamp around your thighs, keeping you in place. You couldn’t move if you tried, if you wanted to, between the weight of his body and the Force pinning you down.

“Yes!” You gasp, when he slams his cock into you, hard.

The wet smack of his skin against yours has you keening, has your back arching up more and more until he has to physically push you back down. The throne is hot against your back, from all the heat your own bodies have expelled, the metal beading with condensation as your hands scrabble against it.

“(Y/N),” Your name is a prayer on his lips as he builds a rhythm, builds up a steady pace which has your nerves on fire from your finger tips to your toes, toes which curl against his back, “(Y/N) – oh stars.” He is loud, voice bouncing around the walls of the throne room.

His hands are all over you; they grip at your knees, your hips to keep you steady. They grope at your tits, the soft flesh of your stomach, your ass. They wrap and squeeze around your throat, until you’re nearly blue in the face and sobbing from the rush of pleasure that flies to your head, dizzy in a way that has you seeing stars, and you can’t tell if you’re coming or not -- it’s just that good.

He is spurred on by your cries, your moans, how they are loud loud loud, shouts as he shoves his cock as deep as it can possibly go. He is so strong, it is easy for him to break you, and he has to be careful but he doesn’t want to, his head filled with so much of his own pleasure that when the Force connects the two of you in the bond you share, he bares his teeth and snarls with how good it is.

He’s coming in you again from the force of it. He bites down hard on the spot where your shoulder meets your throat, bites down to prevent him from screaming. His cock is still so hard, and he wants to cry with how much he loves you, how he can feel how much he loves you.

You are stuck in a feedback loop – pleasure, hot, wet, white, blinding, heat, love, love, love, power – as the Force flows between the two of you. His fingertips crackle and spark, visible purple light glimmering shimmering in the air around you, and you yank on your bindings, desperate for him to stimulate your clit with that, with the sheer raw electricity of the universe.

“Let me? Oh Force, fuck, let me, let me, (Y/N), let me – ” he begs as he plows into you, as he rails you, and you’re hiccupping out a –

“Yes, please, Kylo, yes!” You nod, furious, and he’s drooling into your mouth from how drunk he is off your cunt that his hands need a second try to find your clit in the first place.

He rolls it between his fingers when he does, and the Force shoots up through you so blindingly that your eyes snap open, that you come and come and come with a sob, as you yell out his name again and again.

He commands the Force to fuck you then, to wriggle deeper and harder and hotter and stronger than his own cock could alone. He reaches the Force up so far into you that you feel like you’re choking on it, and he is in awe of the way his power makes you feel, he absorbs it right back through your bond.

“It chose us,” He’s delirious, trembling and sparking all over, crackles of the Force thrumming through his body, into yours, up through you and out of your fingertips, “Look at this, look, it chose us – look how much it loves us.”

If there had ever been a shadow of a doubt, a shadow of uncertainty about the sheer sublimity of the dark side, it is gone now. If there had ever been a call to the light, a hand outreached for a traitor of a cousin, it was snuffed out now. All there is, is power. All there is, is you.

He comes in you again, and this time, oh this time with all this pleasure, you do scream.

 He is flooded with power, when he returns.

 He rests his head against your chest, the both of you panting panting panting, throats dry and hoarse from the shouting. Your throats are dry but your eyes sting wet, tears from pure sensation, the Force bond thriving between you. Through this somehow it burns even brighter, as if there were no ceiling for how high you both could ride this wave. You wonder, wonder what the Force will gift you, what the next step in the evolution of your love might bring. 

You’re still joined together, his cock still hard somehow. You’re exhausted, from all of that, exhausted and already blooming red purple blue bruises, muscles sore from the burn of tension. Around you, the room burns, fires combusted out of nowhere from the explosion of his orgasm.

His eyes are closed but you can still see the yellow in the memory that’s burned into your brain, the Force playing it on loop. He looks so handsome, you can’t help but shift your hips enough to draw a long groan out of him. His chocolate eyes were stunning, of course they were, but there’s something about the molten gold, the flecks of red, that unnatural display of unnatural abilities that only he can wield with such mastery…it has you breathless.

Well, everything about Kylo has you breathless.

He attempts to live inside you, and you let him, let him cling to you, robes torn and ripped to shreds in a pile around your bodies, torn from his fingers and the Force. Still he shakes, though the tremors which wrack through him now are after-shocks of coming, his cock still twitching, still pouring come into you every few moments. You’re afraid that you won’t be able to stand without it cascading down your thighs.

Kylo hears the thought and only pushes his cock deeper into you, making you suck in a breath from being so overstimulated. You don’t want him to get off of you, not yet, you don’t want him gone so soon yet, not so soon after he’s finally returned. 

Because you know realistically that he will need to leave again, and soon. You know he will need to follow the wayfinder to the place where the sith reside, to the place where his power can be enhanced, to the place where any obstacle to his rise may be snuffed out.

He will be gone, you cannot stop him. You don’t want to stop him, not when he returns so successful. But before he goes, he will need his fill of you, will need to take you again and again, will need to claim you in as many ways as he can before he goes, before he is parted from you again. He will fight and he will slaughter the rebellion the same way he has slaughtered all other enemies which have come between him and his quest for power.

This you know.

But what you also know, is that he does this all for you, all for the galaxy which you rule alongside him.

And when he returns, he is all of those things; feral, desperate, filthy, starving. But he is grinning, smile spread so wide on his face as you hold him close, as you grin back at him from the thrill of it all, the thrill of your love. 

Because when he returns, it is above all else, a return to you.

                                                  --------------

I have no idea who to tag for this so I am so sorry if this is not your thing at all lmao  @adamsnackdriver​​​ @dreamboatdriver​​​ @kyloxfem​​​ @heldcaptivebychaos​​​ @kylo-renne​​​ @callmehopeless​​​ @solotriplets​​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​​ @lookinsidemyhead​​​ @candycanes19​​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​​ @the-wayward-rose​​​ @taylovren-types​​  magikevalynn  tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov​​​  romancedeldiablo @elfieboxcat​​ @scheherazades-horcrux​​ @whiskey-bumblebee​ @riseofkylo​

[wipbigbang]

2021 Round - Artists Claims (Round 2)

Round 2 of claims for artists are open! The second round will go this week and then I'll post a new round on Thursday, opening it up for thirds. Everybody spread the word! We have 70 story summaries below for you to choose from, and this round, you may choose 2 stories to do art for! Just use a different check in ID with each sign-up.

This year, art claims are working a little differently than in years past. We are using a google form to streamline things, which should make things easier both for you as participants and us mods. To claim a story, the form requires email, check in ID, and the identifying number of your first choice of story. Putting your top three choices is best in case your first or second has already been chosen. Please be sure you've read the FAQ before claiming.

Click here to claim a story!

Star Wars #62 Title: In Vino Pairing/Characters Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent (the characters have a consensual sexual encounter while both are drunk, which leads to sober regret and misunderstandings). Summary At the end of the Clone Wars, Anakin is spiraling and comes onto Obi-Wan while both are drunk. Against his better judgment, Obi-Wan goes along with it. The next morning, Obi-Wan pretends he doesn't remember, thinking this will be better for everyone, but confusing Anakin, who isn't sure if he dreamed the encounter or not. Their strained relationship results in them separating during the next mission, and a distracted Obi-Wan is captured and drugged. When Anakin rescues him, they end up trapped together and finally work out their feelings. #63 Title: Starkiller Day Pairing/Characters Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren Rating: Teen Warnings/Tags: Temporary character death Summary The morning after the destruction of Starkiller base, Hux woke up…to find it was the morning of the destruction of Starkiller base. It happened again the next morning, and the next, and the next, no matter what he said or did. He didn’t know what caused this phenomenon or what he needed to do to break the loop, and the one person who might shed some light on the problem was the one person he wanted to talk to the least. But if he didn’t ask for Kylo Ren’s help, he might remain stuck on the worst day of his life for the rest of eternity. #64 Title: Start a Fire Pairing/Characters Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren. (minor characters: Snoke, Knights of Ren) Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence, minor character death, mind control, mild gore, injury. Canon-divergent AU, TFA compliant, references to Phasma novel (specifically the murder of Brendol Hux), smoking, alcohol, injured mind, injury recovery, trauma, plotting to take down Snoke, reluctant allies to lovers, pining, feelings realisation. Summary After Ren returns weakened by his training under Snoke, Hux and Ren team up to take down the Supreme Leader. Neither fully trusts the other and their tentative partnership ignites new and old frictions. #65 Title: Untitled Pairing/Characters Thrawn/female OC (Treasa), female OC (Treasa)/male OC (working name Feylan), Wedge Antilles/Female OC (Treasa); an assortment of other characters including additional OCs and other canon characters Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: Polyamory, polygamy (specifically polyandry), medical stuff, medical trauma, characters dealing with PTSD/other mental health issues, slavery (mentioned), Summary This is a long and complicated fic dealing with multiple characters and their intertwining relationships and the major events happening around them. Treasa is a human from Earth who was part of a team testing Earth's first hyperdrive. Ultimately, she is the mission's only survivor who is rescued and saved by the Chiss. Meanwhile, Grand Admiral Thrawn is thought dead by the Republic and Empire alike, but he has in fact survived and returned home to Chiss space, where he is tending his wounds and battling his demons. Thrawn and Treasa make an unlikely pair, but make a pair they do. And on top of it all, the Chiss face a new mystery -- ships full of people disappearing, leaving the ships themselves and all cargo behind, but with no trace of what happened to the crews and passengers. As Treasa slowly rises through the ranks of Chiss politics and Thrawn returns to military service, they will both be instrumental in solving this mystery. Star Wars: The Clone Wars #66 Title: Untitled Pairing/Characters CT-7567 | Rex, Ahsoka Tano, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, CT-5597 | Jesse Rating: Teen Warnings/Tags: Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath Summary Order 66 partial fix-it, Rex Ahsoka and Echo have to figure out how to save those on the Venator starship, and then proceed to save everyone they can from the Empire.

[wrender]

(from the back of the auditorium) give us the rant!

OKAY. So. Here is the issue with how the star wars sequels deal with the destruction of entire planets, which is they don't treat them with any gravity at all. I'm gonna put this under a readmore

In the original trilogy/rogue one, the death star is, terrible. It's horrible. In rogue one it kills our remaining protagonists, and in the og trilogy it kills the adoptive parents of leia, along with her entire home. A lot of the comics delve into leia's grief, how she cannot accept darth vader as her father, how her real parents died on alderaan, along with many heartbreaking scenes were leia talks about how if they're far enough away, she can still see alderaan in the sky. It's terrible. It's something that is absolutely irredeemable

We don't have any planets that blow up in the prequels, but to replace it we have order 66, which I feel is still a good parallel to draw. An entire culture murdered in cold blood, their temples dismantled, or taken over and changed completely. The few survivors can never go home. In the animated series rebels, we see the aftermath of a sith death weapon. On malachor 5 we see a sith temple with the bodies of both sith and jedi littered everywhere. When the weapon went off the first (and last) time, it was incomplete, and fired on its own planet rather than somewhere else. The entire malachor system now is cursed, the disturbance the weapon's use left in the force caused gravity wells making it so ships might just crash on the planet's side (like the Bermuda triangle). The consequences of using a weapon of this caliber are still echoed, over a thousand years later.

Now, with all this, where does that put the sequel trilogy with how it treats the destruction of planets? Well, let's talk about our three main ones. The entire hosnian system (tfa), Kijimi (tros), and ilum (tfa).

The one that's probably handled with the most care is the destruction of the hosnian system. The characters are seen effected by this, the resistance takes a hit with the loss of a keystone system, and it shows off how bad starkiller base is. My main issue, is that in the movies this event is never mentioned again. Ever. Not even in a passing line. "Oh look, kylo ren blew up a whole system. Oh well, let's never bring that up again." We don't know any characters there, this is the first time this system is brought up, and it has no lasting effect on the story or the characters, and this was the one that was handled the "best".

Kijimi, was handled with significantly less taste. Palpatine wants to, do palpatine stuff so he sends one of his new star destroyers that can destroy planets now, to Kijimi, knowing that our protagonists have friends there. The ship goes, blows up the planet, and then, nothing. Our characters are sad that their friends died. But wait! They didn't! They're fine! Everyone is happy that our friends got away, but.... Nobody is bringing up the fact that an entire planet is dead. Gone. Our friends survived, okay, but billions of people are dead and it's never brought up again. The destruction of Kijimi was nothing more than a fakeout trying to pull emotion out of the audience.

And now, for the worst offence. Ilum. For context, ilum is the main planet that's the source of kyber crystals, which power lightsabers. In current canon, there is only one other temple that has them, which is lothal. Ilum is a sacred site, an important temple, and the right of passage for every jedi youngling to get their own kyber crystal, so they can eventually build their own lightsaber. And what did they do to it in the force awakens?

They blew it up. Starkiller base is built around and inside an entire planet, and for some fucking reason, the writers decided to make that planet ilum. The planet that's still one of the remaining sacred sites to the jedi. The planet in which, for generations, jedi have gone to undergo a ritual that would give them a weapon that they'd have for life. And they blew it up.

To me, this is what really makes me realize that the star wars writers, for the sequel trilogy, don't care about the history of the world. They don't care about the cultures, they don't care about the characters, they don't care about the impact that an entire planet blipping out of existence has. They care about making a death star because they know fans liked it. They care about making a big explosion because they know it'll look cool. They care about copying a beat from the original trilogy because they know it was impactful, but they didn't put in the work to make it so theirs would leave any lasting impact. They don't want to put in the effort. They just want you to be reminded of a movie you once liked, and hope that that's enough for you to give them all your money.

[frumfrumfroo]

I wrote a thing (Leia and Ben reunion angst)

.

Lamentations

Leia Organa hadn't really planned on getting old.

Not that she’d particularly expected to die young, either. The possibility (even probability) was certainly very real considering her tireless campaign to put herself in the thick of imminent danger, but logical reasoning about the likely outcome was never any match for her ambitions in life. Sheer bravado and the arrogance of youth had always been more than adequate to the task of pushing the reality of death from her mind. Even when fear or doubt got a grip, she had taken for granted that her rude good health and unshakeable self-assurance would continue in perpetuity as long as she managed to survive.

She hadn’t counted on a day dawning when she could no longer take matters into her own hands if need be. When tenacity might not be enough.

Now, hobbling down a corridor with the cane she hated but couldn’t yet do without no matter what her pride said, finding it slightly hard to catch her breath, she felt the years like anchors on every limb. She felt the weight of her choices pressing her shoulders down from their habitual imperious uprightness into an aged stoop. 

She was on her way to meet her own son for the first time as a grown man and the harm she had done him, her failures as a mother, trailed her like a colossal shadow. She sensed the cold presence of the past looming over her, its encroaching guilt nipping at her heels, and it made her feel more ancient than the deepest rivers of the Force. As if her bones were formed from brittle primordial rock, apt to shatter with a touch.

If Han were here he’d cut her down to size for thinking she was the one keeping the whole universe together, for trying to bear every burden, fight every good fight. He’d depreciate himself and distract her from her navel gazing, bounce her back into reality and remind her not everything depended on her. But small things did. Smaller things than she ever remembered to notice. He’d kiss her on the forehead and forgive her for her self-importance. Han had kept her human when single-minded, hotheaded determination threatened to turn her into some kind of overbearing political droid.

But he wasn’t here and never would be again.

When the girl, Rey, repeated her story of what had happened on Starkiller Base, this time after her sojourn on Ahch-to, and in much more detail than before… It was the first time Leia wondered if she ought to blame herself a lot more personally than she ever had, if it were her fears and hurts, her emotional retaining wall which created an opportunity for Snoke. Perhaps it wasn’t so inevitable, the enemy wasn’t so crafty, and she had simply abdicated her post as guardian. Every far-flung, bleeding heart responsibility she’d voluntarily taken on in her life- some she’d deliberately snatched out of other, more cautious hands- and she’d shunned the one which had the strongest, most natural claim on her. It was the one job she was worried she couldn’t do.

He’d been so small when she’d pulled his childish, clutching fingers away from the folds of her dress and pressed him firmly towards his uncle. He’d been only just as tall as her chest, gangly and skinny in the aftermath of his first growth spurt. His eyes had looked huge in his slim face, enormous and soulful pools of hazel gold and brown. Pleading. She remembered putting her hands on his shoulders and smoothing back his hair as she looked at him and tried not to notice the sheen of unshed tears, the trembling of his lower lip. She’d decided this was best for him and so she had turned a deaf ear to any potential entreaties, unwilling to be swayed from wisdom by sentiment. It had to be done. For his own good, she had to pretend this didn’t hurt. She couldn’t waver.

All her life she hadn’t had time for her sorrows, all her life she could ill-afford the luxury of indulging her feelings. When was it time? When had she fought for long enough?

When she won. That was always the answer. She’d rest, she’d have a life, when she had made a universe worth living in. When she’d made things right. What could be more important?

“There’s always some new crusade, though, isn’t there, sweetheart?”

Han’s voice, sharp on the endearment which he’d always used equally often in chastisement as in affection, laden with barely concealed hurt. She heard his pain, but she chose not to listen to it.

She’d thought there’d be time to make it up to him. She thought they would wait for her, her family, that her life would wait for her.

Her step faltered when she found herself standing outside the room in the med suite where Ben was recuperating. He was mobile now, his wounds were closed and his ribs were healing. He’d needed a lot of rest, more for mental and spiritual exhaustion than physical damage. He’d become a conduit in the Force the like of which was only heard of in legend and there had been some question if he would survive. She’d kept abreast of his condition since she’d been told of his arrival three days ago; he’d been in her every thought and breath and prayer, but she couldn’t visit. There was too much to do, too many people to oversee and decisions to make. She had plenty of excuses to keep avoiding the reckoning. 

Reportedly Rey hadn’t left his bedside once, never further from him than the fresher in the corner of the room. Poe said she was like a wild animal with a cub, hovering protectively over his prone body and questioning anyone who wanted to get near him. She’d maintained a death grip on his hand which only loosened slightly when she fell asleep in her chair at his side. Her own injuries were tended by a droid, under protest and without anaesthetic.

Leia leaned against the corridor wall and tried for what felt like the latest in several trillion attempts to come to terms with what Rey had told her about Luke. About Ben.

And she knew she deserved to blame herself. She knew. If he’d thought he could come home, he would have, and who had made him think he couldn’t? Han had fought for him and she’d have to tell him that no matter how painful it was to admit, she’d have to make sure he understood it wasn’t his father’s idea that Anakin’s blood flowed with latent corruption- not until she’d convinced him it did. Not until her secret festering fears clouded over the dawning love and hope they’d sacrificed so much to have.

The supreme necessity of forgiveness, of giving it and receiving it both, had become the hardest lesson she would ever learn. Her famously indomitable righteous anger had perished with a whimper, suffocated itself in weariness and despair; it was only fear that lived forever. It was fear which chained love, shackled hope, and bound the soul in darkness. And forgiveness drove out fear.

If Ben could forgive her, it seemed a mere pittance to forgive him.

When she rounded the corner the kids were silent but clearly communicating, the power of their connection like a subtle crackle in the Force which raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Rey was sitting on the edge of his cot, their heads very close together and her hands clasping both of his. Leia absorbed Rey’s mood first because it didn’t hurt nearly so much to look at Rey. The smile on her lips and the contentment in her eyes spoke of a peace the girl had never shown before. There was a confidence about her now, a knowingness. Leia had sensed she was searching for something from the moment she’d first seen her, noticed the void she was trying to fill. Leia had an eye for pressure points in people. She’d made use of Rey’s in hope that it would help her reach Luke. There might be an apology owed in that quarter too, but all thoughts of Rey vanished when Ben noticed her presence.

His head turned towards her and his face froze in an expression between horror and anguish, his pleading eyes just as she remembered them. He had a lot of his father in him, so much that it was striking, and a stab of agony lodged itself between her ribs that felt like her heart being pierced. But there was also so much of her in those eyes, in the slope of his jaw and the shape of his chin that she almost felt as if she were looking into a kaleidoscope reflection of her younger self. The certain, unshakable self she still half expected to see in the mirror before she turned on the vanity lights. He was a perfect marriage of her features and Han’s, with his broad cheekbones and regal profile, his full mouth and deep set eyes. 

It was probably because he seemed in that moment somehow both a mirror and the spitting image of her husband that it was the shame which hit her first. She couldn’t help but spin around and cover her mouth to try to swallow a cry.

There was a tiny gasping noise from behind her and then Rey’s voice murmuring something. She couldn’t focus on the words, couldn’t understand what was being said, but she knew the sound of pain was from Ben. He thought she couldn’t bear to look at him.

And she couldn’t, but not for the reasons he must be imagining.

She gathered her dignity and forced herself to look again. He was clutching his blankets where they pooled at his waist, his long black hair falling in soft waves which framed the drawn pallor of his face very starkly. He looked ill and frightened. Vulnerable, a child again.

“Ben,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling boy. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been weeping into her hands when someone began to gently pry them away from her face, but her cheeks were wet and her eyes stung. She raised her gaze only to be confronted with a wide expanse of chest covered in the soft, oversized hospital smock which was standard issue for checked-in patients. She looked up, and up, and up to meet his eyes and couldn’t remember ever feeling so small in her life. 

Leia was a short woman and used to fighting to get the world on her level, but this was her baby. She’d carried him in her belly, held him in her hands, she’d last seen him when she still had to crouch to speak to him eye to eye. His once little fingers now dwarfed her entire arm where he was holding her wrist and he towered over her to such an extent that the top of her head barely reached the middle of his sternum. Her baby was grown up and she hadn’t seen him in person since he was ten. Since their heights had been the inverse of this tableau. He’d become a man and she’d been there for none of it. She’d chosen not to be.

Ben was leaning down, studying her with trepidatious concern, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch his face. She put his hair behind his ear and cradled his cheek in her palm, feeling the living warmth of his skin and the tickling sensation of a hot tear which rolled down from the corner of his eye and under her thumb.

“Look how beautiful you are,” she said, almost without meaning to.

He ducked towards her hand, hiding behind his hair.

She wrapped her arms around him and he folded into her, dropping nearly to his knees so he could hug her back, so tightly that it almost hurt. He was very strong, the harsh conditioning of a footsoldier obvious in the broad muscles of his back beneath her hands, and it hurt to think how badly he must have needed to be, how much he’d needed to rely on himself and his ability to fight. How he’d never been safe anywhere from the moment he was born.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He sobbed hard into her shoulder, as if the words had broken a dam inside him. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his whole body and made her hold him as close as she could and whisper to him the way she had when he was a fussing infant, when the nightmares she never dared to tell her brother about had gripped him in their malingering claws. When the fear of darkness which ended up swallowing their little family encroached too close. “Shhsh, shhsh, it’s all right now.”

His voice cracked when he finally managed to tell her, “It’s me- I'm sorry; it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. How can you stand it, how can you stand it?”

Leia suddenly found herself meeting Rey’s penetrating gaze over his head. If there was judgement there, it was less harsh than it justly could have been.

“I should have protected you. I didn’t protect you.”

“Mother,” he croaked with enormous difficulty, “I killed him.”

Her stomach rolled over and her vision blurred with fresh tears, but she held him with her, gripping the fabric of his shirt with white-knuckle intensity. “He loved you. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

His face collapsed like wet linen and he slid to the floor at her feet, burying his head in her skirts. There was a mantra of apologies and self-recriminations amongst the desperate sobs and she lowered a shaking hand to stroke his hair. 

“Ben, don’t. Please. Please don’t. Your father knew, he understood.”

Red eyes peeked up at her, his chin was trembling and those same fingers were clutching her skirts again and she wished she could go back to that day and tell herself her child needed her more than the galactic senate ever would. He needed honesty, his mother and his family, not a comfortable lie, a Jedi master or a carefully constrained destiny. She wished she’d seen him as clearly then as she did now, that she hadn’t been too afraid to look. She wished Han could be here to celebrate beating the odds one last time.

“If he could, he’d tell you this was the fairest trade he ever made.”

[solohux]

Hiya! Not sure if you've maybe done it before, but could I request a fic rec for kylux (and/or adjacent) hurt/comfort where Hux is the one hurt? (Either physically or emotionally is fine.) Thank you ever so much!!!!

Sure thing! I love hurt Hux!

• in the broken parts by red0aktree

Whatever it was they had, it all changed when Kylo’s phone rang as he locked up the bar just after 3:00 a.m. on a Wednesday. “What?” Kylo said into the receiver, recognizing Hux’s contact ID from the limited amount of phone interaction they’d had. “I need you to come pick me up.”-Featuring: Late night phone calls, several broken ribs, and surprise affection.

• Burdens of Command by ImperialRemnant

Hux is hurt in battle, and it doesn't bode well with Kylo.

• Raw by ballvvasher

While on a routine mission, General Hux is kidnapped and viciously gang raped by his captors. Kylo Ren is the only other being in the galaxy who knows Hux’s shameful secret. Story contains graphic gang rape, sexual violence, rape recovery, rape fantasy (as a coping mechanism). Hux’s relationship with Kylo Ren is consensual but borders dub-con. Please read all tags for more warnings.

• Unspoken Feelings by NatLannister

Kylo isn't sure when it happened, but it seemed that overnight his hate for Hux had disappeared. It isn't till Hux is hurt in battle that Kylo finally understands how he feels about the general.

• Fidget by declarejenos

Having returned to the Finalizer post-Starkiller, Ren should be attempting to pursue his destiny by seeking out Luke Skywalker and The Girl. Instead he contemplates why he can't stop fidgeting...and what has become of the missing General...

• languor in the calm of your shade by TheSpaceCoyote

Emperor Hux recovers from an attempted assassination, while his Enforcer seeks forgiveness for his failure.

• all you can feel is your lungs flood and the blood course by TheSpaceCoyote

General Hux falls through the ice while on Starkiller Base, right in front of the man least likely to bother saving him. 

• a deafening hush by TheSpaceCoyote

This time, Kylo Ren is too late to save his general.   

• sparks on metal made to look like bleeding by TheSpaceCoyote

An explosion at an old Imperial base leaves Hux pinned underneath the debris. Kylo tries to help, only to fail—and put the general's life in even more danger.

• pull it through by TheSpaceCoyote

When Hux is grievously impaled in the aftermath of an explosion, Kylo goes to great lengths to save him—all the while enduring the still-conscious general's abrasive attitude.

• Stargazer by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

Two years after last seeing Hux on the Star Destroyer Steadfast, Ben learns that certain things are too powerful to escape their orbits.

• Catharsis by fuck_you_kylo  

Brendol Hux is finally dead. Armitage Hux did not expect it to affect him much.

• Healing by FruHallbera   

Hux manages to get himself seriously hurt on a mission gone wrong and it falls to Kylo Ren to decide his fate.            

• rest, general by stxrships

Clearly Kylo is not the only one damaged after Starkiller.

• Forgiveness by DeviantDarkBelle

Hux is alive and in hiding. Until someone finds him.

• A Young Understanding by bastilas             

While accompanying his father on a diplomatic mission to the New Republic, Armitage presents as an omega. And there's nothing Brendol Hux despises more than omegas. Fearing his father's wrath, Armitage flees and runs straight into Ben Solo.